The March Hare

One day, I will work for National Public Radio. I will be paid to listen to NPR all day long, which is what I try to do for no pay as it is. I will make NPR even greater than it already is.
Here are the greatest NPR shows, ranked by greatness:
All Things Considered
This American Life
A Prairie Home Companion
Fresh Air

I award the lowest possible ranking to Hearts of Space. On the jazz station that I could pick up in Jasper, Alabama, this tribute to minimalist Bay-area composers would interrupt the sweet, sweet flow of tinny-voiced jazz that I liked to fall asleep with. I would wake up at around 2am, say very loud 'What the hell is this New Age crap?' and fall asleep again. Restlessly.

Honk if you love NPR.

I misspent many, many years reading my sister's hand-me-down young adult novels. This was in the early nineties, my sister's books were from the eighties or earlier, and so they rarely had the positive, progressive messages one can find in almost any YA novel nowadays.

I have one remarkable ability, aside from my Billie Holliday impersonation, and that is the power to recall books I read only once twelve years ago. I can't recall the title of this particular gem, but I can tell you that the main character was named Ophelia and her best friend was a fellow named Amadeus "Mad" Hatter. One day, she finds that Mad is tutoring this teenage supermodel. The supermodel gives Ophelia a makeover and she is suddenly popular and has a boyfriend.

Phrases from this book have been running through my head for two weeks now. If this sounds familiar to anyone, if you have any clues as to the identity of this book or its author, please tell me. I can't keep thinking about this.